


Familiar

by boywonder



Category: Daredevil (Comics)
Genre: Identity Porn, M/M, fudged timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/pseuds/boywonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There was no Danny, no Matt, no Daredevil, no Iron Fist, just two men who needed someone to understand what they’d been through and needed contact desperately enough to fight each other to get it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devilc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/gifts).



Matt turned his head toward the open window. He wasn’t quite facing it – that wasn’t necessary for him, after all. He could feel his muscles tense. Why had he left the window open, anyway? It was common knowledge that he’d come back to town. There had been that big press conference, namedropping Frank Castle to get people off his case about how he was mysteriously absent after getting out of Ryker’s, so it was unavoidable.

It made actually being Daredevil slightly complicated, since there were still people who didn’t believe he wasn’t.

But Daredevil had been haunting the streets the whole time he’d been gone, so surely no one would think to look for him here _this soon_ , would they?

Matt was ready for a fight the second the footsteps he’d heard above came crash landing onto the balcony outside the window. Of course, it wasn’t really a crash landing – the man on the balcony had some of the quietest feet Matt had ever heard, almost as quiet as his own. But “quiet” was a relative term to Matt’s enhanced sense of hearing.

Matt reacted out of instinct more than anything else as the man swung into the window. There was grace in the movement that Matt might have appreciated if he’d been thinking instead of acting. But even this far removed from the chaos of Ryker’s GP, he was still too keyed up to bother thinking first. He could think while he moved, and he figured he’d have a better chance of living through whatever the hell this was.

It took a full five seconds in before Matt realized that the man breaking into his house wasn’t actually _attacking_ him. He was _fighting_ , yes, but he was only defending. And he was defending _well_. Matt couldn’t get anything past his guard. The realization that it was only defense precluded a series of other revelations, hitting him all at once, one after another.

He couldn’t get an edge in because the defense was the same style he’d have used, were their positions reversed.

The feel of the leather on the other man’s arms when he blocked Matt’s strikes was familiar.

The other man’s heartbeat barely increased; he wasn’t afraid, and he wasn’t working too hard at doing this. 

He knew that heartbeat, and he knew that scent.

“Danny?” he asked, stepping back. He didn’t let his guard down – he couldn’t do that, not yet – but he stopped his attack. 

“That took you longer than I expected,” Danny said. His voice was different in Matt’s ears. Danny, sure, but his voice was rougher. Deeper. There was a cadence to it he didn’t normally have. 

_Familiar._

“Why didn’t you just knock?”

“Why did you leave your window open? I wouldn’t, if I were you. Defenseless blind man. Pissed off the Punisher on national TV yesterday.”

“You of all people know I’m not-“

“Not _Daredevil_?” Danny asked.

Again, realizations came all at once.

The leather was familiar because it was _his_. Well, a reasonable facsimile; he and Danny weren’t quite the same size or shape. He wondered, like he had the last time, where Danny had even gotten that made.

The cadence in Danny’s voice was familiar because that was _also_ his. Well, not Matt’s – Daredevil’s. They were different on purpose.

And the fighting style, too. It wasn’t Danny’s usual way of moving (though Danny knew more martial arts styles than Matt did). It was _Daredevil’s_ \- not just martial arts, but boxing moves. Matt hadn’t gotten a hit in because Danny had just used his own moves against him. Of course, if Matt had been thinking more, he’d have been able to throw a wrench in that defense, but…

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Isn’t this where Daredevil lives?”

Matt’s eyebrows knitted together, annoyed. He could glare pretty well for a blind man.

“I thought you said I wasn’t-“

“ _You_ said you weren’t,” Danny corrected. “I never said anything about that.”

Matt changed tactics.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“That’s how Daredevil fights, isn’t it?”

“More or less. Where’d you learn it?”

Matt could tell, from the way Danny stopped moving entirely and turned toward him – from the ping back on Danny’s outline, the angle of the horns – that Danny was looking at him. That was the key difference, wasn’t it? One of two _really obvious_ differences between them: Danny could _see_. And Danny was clearly staring at him.

“From watching you,” he said, and his voice was just Danny Rand’s. “Don’t leave your window open, Matt. Seriously.”

“Why? Because Daredevil won’t always be there to save me?”

“No. Because Daredevil _will_ always be there to save you. Someone might be counting on that.”

Matt could feel the sinister beginnings of a headache start at his temples. He ignored it.

“What are you doing here, Danny? Dressed like that?”

“You’re going to get all defensive of your title _now_? Like it’s only yours, and now you’re back, there’s only One True Daredevil?”

“I didn’t say that,” Matt said. He hadn’t even _implied_ it, had he? Well, maybe a little, with his tone of voice. Or maybe Danny was reading too much into his words.

“Maybe I like being Daredevil,” Danny said, in the voice that was more like Matt’s – Daredevil’s – than his own. “Maybe I want to keep it for awhile.”

“Daredevil got you sent to the Negative Zone,” Matt said, softly. “I don’t know why you’d want to keep doing it after that.”

“Daredevil got _you_ sent to Ryker’s,” Danny answered. He took a step towards Matt.

It was almost like looking in a mirror. Not that Matt could do that, of course. Mirrors were useless to him. But it was like _feeling_ himself move. Not exactly, not 100%, but eerily close. To most people, Danny would have been Daredevil pretty convincingly. Even Matt was mostly convinced, and that was kind of freaky.

“So what am I supposed to be? Iron Fist? Please.”

Danny half-shrugged – a fluid movement of the left shoulder, Matt’s dominant side but not Danny’s. 

“ _What_ are you supposed to be? You could start with grateful.”

Matt’s annoyance returned. It wasn’t that Danny wasn’t _right_ , it was this was still his house, and that was still his suit, and that was still _his identity_.

He had convinced the world he wasn’t Daredevil, but that didn’t make it true.

“Don’t ever think I don’t appreciate what you did for me. But don’t think I’m going to let you keep doing it, either.”

“Do you think you can stop me?” Danny asked in Daredevil’s voice.

“Don’t be an idiot, Daniel,” Matt said.

“Don’t underestimate me, Matthew,” Danny shot back. The comeback wasn’t quite Matt’s style – wasn’t quite Danny’s either – but it still pushed a button.

Matt moved without thinking again, and Danny countered without trying. It didn’t take Matt five seconds this time – it only took him about two and a half. He knew Danny was using Daredevil’s fighting style. But he also _knew Danny_. And he knew his way around the dark brownstone. Did Danny? He wondered.

Instead of continuing the assault, he moved away, back toward the window. Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew that the window let in light. He had blackout curtains on it, for nights when he was too tired or angry or hurt to pull off his clothes. He’d had them put in not long after he’d declared himself Kingpin. It wasn’t like he or Milla had needed the lights, but they sure as hell had needed the privacy.

Danny could fight like Daredevil, but he couldn’t manage to stop Matt from getting away back to the window.

Matt pulled the curtains down. The movement was too quick and the noise sounded like thunder to him as the heavy curtains crashed down against the still-open window.

He could tell from the way Danny stopped behind him that this was a good plan.

It was easy enough to beat Danny to the only other window in the room and pulled those curtains, too. He could only hope that the room was pitch black now.

“Damnit, Matt,” he heard Danny say. He had barely muttered the words, but for Matt, he could have been standing right next to him.

Danny could fight pretty well without being able to see – Matt had to give him that. But he couldn’t quite fight like Daredevil in the darkness. He had to compensate, had to switch back to something his muscles remembered more entirely. That didn’t give Matt an advantage, exactly; Danny was still a better fighter, technically. But Matt was meaner, and angry, and Danny needed to see to hit a target with real precision. Eventually, Matt got the upper hand and backed Danny into a corner. 

“Can’t see in the dark, Daredevil?” Matt said, pinning Danny’s shoulders to the wall behind him. “I guess those rumors about Daredevil being blind aren’t true after all.”

“I guess you wouldn’t have heard that, since you can’t _watch_ the news,” Danny said. It was a childish thing to say and they both knew it, but even Matt let it go. “If you want this suit back, you’re going to have to take it off me.”

It hit Matt, then, that maybe that’s what Danny had come for in the first place. He wondered why he couldn’t have just _said so_. But they’d come this far.

“If that’s what it takes,” Matt said.

Despite Matt’s hands too hard against Danny’s shoulders, Danny offered that one shoulder shrug again. Left shoulder. Of course.

Matt knew how the suit went together. He’d designed it, more or less, though the updated version was Reed’s doing. This one wasn’t any different from any other one he had. But he’d never taken it off anyone else before. It was different. Backwards. Strange.

But it was Danny.

Danny was familiar underneath – his scent, and his heartbeat finally increasing with frustrating and that other thing that Matt hadn’t let himself acknowledge yet – and even his skin. Matt was used to feeling it through gloves, through fabric. Danny had less scars than he did, but he wasn’t without them. Different scars, different places. Nothing like Daredevil.

After Matt pulled the cowl off, Danny reached up and grabbed his wrist. Matt could feel Danny’s grip too-hard on him. He supposed he deserved that. Danny was still Danny, after all, and he could do things with chi that Matt could only dream of. That was the other real difference between them. Danny could be Daredevil, but Matt couldn’t be Iron Fist, even if he’d wanted to. All the observation in the world wouldn’t teach him how to do that.

Danny’s grip was just meant to give Matt pause. When he did, Danny reached up with his other hand – still gloved – and pulled Matt closer to him until their lips met. Unlike his other movements – Daredevil’s, Iron Fist’s, didn’t matter – this wasn’t graceful. Two heartbeats pounded in Matt’s ears. He could hear as well as feel when their teeth hit each other.

Matt had kept Milla at a distance for most of the time he’d been back. She was staying with her parents for a few days, which he wasn’t sure how to feel about.

He hadn’t had too much human contact besides violence for awhile. That’s all there was in Ryker’s. The closest he’d come to a friend was _Frank Castle_. And his trip to Europe hadn’t exactly been a pleasure cruise, either. 

And Danny? Danny had fought on the “wrong” side of the war (really, Matt figured it was the right side, he’d just been too involved elsewhere to really pay attention to the war at home), and ended up in the Negative Zone for his trouble – and for impersonating Daredevil. No one had asked him to do it. He’d done it to save Matt, and he’d gotten a lot of bullshit for his trouble.

The more Matt’s hands touched of Danny’s skin, the more they both realized they needed the contact.

The sex wasn’t graceful, either. It was rough, and desperate. There weren’t any words, though it wasn’t _silent_.

There was no Danny, no Matt, no Daredevil, no Iron Fist, just two men who needed someone to understand what they’d been through and needed contact desperately enough to fight each other to get it.

They didn’t even make it to the bed.

They lay on the hardwood floor afterwards, breathing hard. Matt could hear where their breath was the same for a minute or two, ragged and heavy and unison in the air, before they both evened out and went back to being truly separate. Two breaths, two heartbeats, two people remembering who they were.

“You should wrap your hands under those gloves,” Matt said, when he found his voice. Daredevil’s voice, in Matt’s eternal darkness.

“It messes with my chi if I do that,” Danny said. Matt heard him stand up and move away, half-stumbling to the wall and feeling around for a minute before the click and the smell of electricity from the nearby lamp. Iron Fist needing to live in the light, like most people did.

“Daredevil doesn’t use chi,” Matt said, amused now instead of annoyed, and he stood up too.

“I’m not Daredevil, though,” Danny said. “You are. Press conference or not.” He was staring again – Matt could tell. The room was a mess – Matt could tell that, too. They’d knocked over a table earlier, and a smaller lamp was broken a few feet away. Clothes were haphazardly strewn about – Daredevil’s leather and mesh, and Matt’s designer suit pieces. 

A smile ghosted at the corner of Matt’s lips. He couldn’t tell, but Danny had a similar look on his face.

“Danny,” he said, bending down and picking up a cowl that would be just this side of too small to wear himself.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” he said, holding it out.

Danny took it – with his right hand – and stood looking down at it.

“You can keep it if you need it,” Matt said. The implication of the words was obvious.

“No,” Danny said after a minute, “I can’t.” He let it go.

The sound of it hitting the floor could have been a bowling ball dropping in Matt’s ears.

“You going to go home like that, then?” he asked, waving a hand in Danny’s general direction, indicating his distinct lack of clothing.

Danny actually laughed.

“Of course not. I figured I’d just borrow your clothes.”

Matt didn’t bother asking if he was joking.


End file.
